


Lightning at the Port

by Kikky



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 01:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikky/pseuds/Kikky
Summary: "It's not long before the arrival of a downpour. You can already see the first lightning falling into the sea in the distance, and the rumble of thunder comes to your ears like that of a hungry stomach.A woman exceeds you and stops shortly beyond you, immersed herself in the sight of the looming storm. She’s not from here: everything in her screams "tourist". Actually it’s not even the time for tourism, thought. Strange."





	Lightning at the Port

Autumn. The rain-filled sky threatens to storm, the city is silent. The sea is a gray and menacing expanse. The Mistral blows stinging and reddens your cheeks and nose, makes you shiver under the scarf and the black coat that you wear there on the seafront. You don’t even know why you're there.

You have your bag, filled with notes of every kind, heavy under your shoulder. The wind forces you to shiver. It's worth it. Oh, it's worth it.

The salty smell and the rhythmic noise of the waves caress you, while you stand there, a few steps from the port, lost in the miraculous landscape. The air is moist and tastes like mold.

Not long before the arrival of a downpour. You can already see the first lightning falling into the water in the distance, and the rumble of thunder comes to your ears like that of a hungry stomach.

A woman exceeds you and stops shortly beyond you, immersed herself in the sight of the looming storm. She’s not from here: everything in her screams "tourist". Actually it’s not even the time for tourism, thought. Strange.

You adjust your bag more firmly on your shoulder and look at her secretly.

She’s at least thirty-five. Her light gray coat reflects the threatening color of the sky, her pale skin looks like ivory under the pale light, and you immediately convince yourself that she must be a tourist from some northern country. Which is relative, seeing that you are on a small island in the Mediterranean, known to little more than its inhabitants and German tourists who storm it in the summer. You never saw tourists in the fall.

She turns, discovers your inquiring look and smiles at you. You get a little embarrassed. You'd like to apologize for it, but your smile is late, and she's already looking back at the sea.

You feel a rumble in the distance. The storm is near. Perhaps the lady doesn’t know what happens to your city when it rains. She doesn’t know about the drains and the ground, thirsty by the summer, but not used to so much water all at once. She doesn’t know that, within a few hours, that area will probably be at least fifteen centimeters underwater. You would like to warn her.

No, maybe she would take you for a strange person. You choose to be silent. Your eyes are a bit watery for the wind. Her hair, despite the heat of the mistral, is relatively neat. She wears them blonde, in a messy helmet, but pleasing to the eye, a haircut that adapts well to the shape of her face. She doesn’t wear makeup.

She moves and you immediately look away. You don’t want her to notice your look again. It would be strange and disturbing. She looks for something in her pockets and brings out a strange object.

For a moment you think the worst. A long, rounded shape, with a sort of light at the apex. Come on, it's definitely not what you are thinking. Cursed your perverse mind.

It looks like a strange torch. The woman raises her arm and points the torch towards the sky, making it light up. A strange buzz joins the sound of the waves. You don’t even try to pretend to not observe her anymore. After a few seconds the light goes out, the buzzing stops and she brings the flashlight back to her and stares at it intensely.

She nods, looks at you for a moment, smiles and returns to look at the long object.

You take the phone out and turn on the screen. Damn, you missed this bus too. You try to check the next one on Google Maps, just to be sure, and find that you have to wait another half an hour. Well, at least you don’t really want to start studying, so it's not so serious.

You feel observed. Now the woman is watching you. You pretend nothing, then you look around as if searching for something, return to observe the sea and peek out from the corner of your eye. You shiver when you find out that she’s still looking at you.

"Messy," she says. Another thunder, closer, shakes you deeply. You ignore her, but she still stares at you. You turn around. "Excuse me?" You ask raising your eyebrows. She smiles at you.

"Your notes. They’re very messy. I don’t think you'll be able to study anything from that higgledy-piggledy thing that you have in there", she says. You smile politely and come back to ignore her, a bit frighted. Your notes are inside the bag, tightly closed to avoid any rain. How does she know?

Two, three lightning flashes follow one another. Maybe you should go home. Yes, things are getting worse. The woman shakes her head. "You can’t. It's too late".

The following thunder is so big and long over time that you feel the instinct to run away and hide. You're civilized enough to avoid it, thankfully.

"They are coming," says the woman in little more than a whisper. You look at her with the most terrified expression you can do, hoping nobody will see you, and you wish that all this isn’t a youtube joke made for one of those stupid videos you watch when you get bored. The woman holds out her hand without moving her eyes from the clouds.

"In any case, I'm the Doctor. Who are you?"

She has a northern accent. You can’t understand where she comes from, but you just know she has a northern accent. At least she speaks your language. You don’t want to reply.

Two more thunders follow each other. You begin to feel a few rain drops. They quickly intensify, falling like pearls on your clothes and on your hair. You don’t thank the woman; maybe it's a bit rude, but you don’t want to.

You go to the bus stop. A lightning falls behind you. You turns over immediately, even before the thunder comes, to see where it has fallen; the woman is gone.

You stop. There are twenty minutes to go until the bus arrives. The woman has disappeared, nowhere to be seen in the street. It's impossible.

Thunder arrives, tearing your eardrums, shuffling your guts and shaking your heart. It was close, damn near.

The rain now is too dense, completely soaking you. You have to run. The bag slams in your thigh, you risk slipping in the wet asphalt when you cross the street. The road is empty. Another thunder mingles with the rustle of the rain. Your heart is racing.

It's not the first time a lightning storm has arrived here, but it's the first time you find yourself on the road when it happens. You look for the bus stop; luckily it's covered. The rain has completely soaked you. A few more steps and ...

 

The blinding light match with the electric and hot shiver that crosses you. You'd want to scream.

You can’t move. You think: okay, it's over. This is the end of my existence. Farewell.

You can no longer feel any external sensation. A single moment of light and boiling shiver and you no longer have any weight and there is nothing around you, at least until someone hits you and you rediscover your balance when your heavy body beats its side on the ground, getting irreparably wet and crushing the bag and the notes.

There’s someone above you. You turn around and see a piece of light gray coat. The woman.

She gets up from you faster than you can imagine and you feel dragged by your arm until you feel the rain not beating on your face anymore.

The woman has dragged you to the dome above the stop bus: now the sound of the rain has become the one of the dry water that falls on the plastic. Soon she enter your field of vision. She has some injuries of her face and looks sorry at you, as if she had lost all the hopes about your survival.

You blink a couple of times. You feel your face extremely swollen and discover that you can move your lips. She stares at you without saying anything.

You feel the weight of her hand on your chest, as if checking your heartbeat, but the woman's eyes don’t leave yours even for a moment.

You groan. She approaches the ear to you. You put your tongue on your lips, that you feel a bit swollen, but not too much. Not yet. In a weak voice, looking for an increasingly difficult breath to take, while a dark canvas begins to lower your thoughts and your sight, you whisper your last words.

 

"Doctor _who_?"

**Author's Note:**

> Some days ago where I live there has been a flood that blocked a lot of cities. There were a terrifying amout of lightning and a woman drown. I put in this fanfic no pronouns for the OC, and the cause of death is different, because I just processed the event like this and I'm sorry but I can't control my subconscious. Still the whole thing was so frightening that it seemed like an alien invasion, and because today airs the second episode of the Thirteenth Doctor, well... I'm really sorry I just needed to publish this I beg your pardon


End file.
